was.
'Navvyin in't so clever.' Sutton shook his head. 'Too chancy these days. Railways are one thing, tunnels is 'nother.'
'Yer damn right!' Blackie agreed.
Sutton looked at him closely. 'Yer reckon one of 'em's goin' ter cave in, Blackie?'
'That's wot they're sayin'.' Blackie curled his lip, making his lopsided face look less than human in the yellow light. 'Word is 'em stupid sods is gonna keep on cuttin' till they cross a river an' drown 'alf the poor devils wot are diggin' there like a lot o' bleedin' moles.'
Hester drew in her breath to ask him to be more specific, then gasped as Sutton kicked her sharply. She shut her mouth and bit her lip with pain to stop crying out.
' 'Oose works?' Sutton asked casually. 'I don't wanna get caught in it.'
'Go down, do yer?' Blackie squinted at him.
'Bin known ter,' Sutton acknowledged. 'Think it'll be Bracknell and 'is lot?'
'Mebbe. More like Paterson 's.'
'Argyll?'
Blackie gave him a keen look. 'You 'eard summink, 'ave yer?'
'Whispers. They true?'
'They move faster'n most, but Sixsmith's a canny bastard. Very careful, 'e is. But the engines wot 'e uses are big, an' stronger than most. I reckon they done summink ter 'em, made ' em better. Could slice through an old sewer wall an' bring a cave-in quick as spit.'
Hester was aching to ask for details, but her leg was still smarting from where Sutton had kicked her.
'So I 'eard,' Sutton agreed. 'But I thought it were just daft talk o' some girl. 'Er pa were scared o' the dark or summink. Lost 'is nerve an' shot 'isself, they said. Mind, she never believed it. Said someone else done 'im in.'
Blackie's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward sharply. 'I'd keep yer face shut about that if I was you, Sutton,' he said very quietly. 'Stick ter rattin', eh? It's nice an' safe, an' yer know wot yer doin'. Don't go down no 'oles in the ground, an' don' go askin' no questions. O' course they 'ave safety rules, an' o' course they don' use 'em. Fastest one through gets the next contract, easy as that. Better buried alive fer maybe than starved or froze fer sure.' He dropped his voice still further. 'I owe yer, Sutton, an' I owed yer pa, so I'll tell yer for nothin'. Stick ter rattin'. It's clean an' yer don' upset no one but the rats. There's things about tunnels as yer don' want ter know, an' people in 'em sure as 'ell's burnin' yer don' want as should know you! One feller special, so keep yer nose ter yerself. Got it?'
Sutton nodded. 'Mebbe yer right,' he conceded. 'Don't you go down no 'oles in the ground neither, Blackie. If they bump inter a river accidental, it in't gonna care that yer a tosher an' 'ave worked these ways all yer life. It'll come down there like a train, faster than a man can run, an' pushin' everythin' in front o' it.'
'I don' go there no more,' Blackie said with a twist of his mouth. 'I know which ones is safe an' which in't. But yer listen ter me, Sutton! Water, gas, fire, an' rats in't all there is ter watch fer! There's money in this, so there's men as'd commit murder. Keep out o' it, see? Go, an' take that lad there wi' the eyes out of 'ere. I dunno wot yer come fer, but there's nothin' 'ere fer you.'
'I reckon not,' Sutton agreed. Taking Hester by the arm, holding her hard, he turned and started back the way they had come. They had gone a hundred yards before Hester dared speak.
'Mary can't have come down here, surely?' she asked a little shakily.
'Mebbe, mebbe not, but they know about 'er,' Sutton replied. 'She must 'ave asked a lot o' questions-the right ones, by the sound o' it.'
'But they wouldn't tell her anything,' she protested. 'What harm could she have done that they killed her?'
'I dunno,' he admitted unhappily. 'But if anyone killed 'er, it must'a bin Toby Argyll. Thing is, 'oo told 'im ter?'
'I need to know!' she insisted. 'Otherwise, how do we prove that she didn't kill herself?'
'I 'ave ter know, too,' he agreed. 'Or 'ow do we stop 'em from goin' on faster and faster till they bring the 'ole bleedin' roof in an' mebbe bury an 'undred men alive? Or worse 'n that, set the gas alight an' start 'nother Great Fire o' London?'
She said nothing. She did not know the answer, but it troubled her. If Mary had been right, could she possibly have been the only one to see the danger? Surely her questions alone would have been sufficient to alarm other people. Was that what Alan Argyll had been concerned about, not the actual situation but the fears and suspicion Mary was stirring up? Was there ever cause to think it could have started a panic?
'They don't seem afraid,' she said aloud. 'They don't really think it'll happen, do they?'
Sutton looked at her. 'Afraid o' wot?' he said gently. 'Think about it too 'ard, an' yer'll be afraid o' the 'ole o' life. Bein' 'urt, bein' ungry, bein' cold, bein' alone. Or yer mean bein' drownded or buried alive? Don't think too far ahead. Just do terday.'
'Is that what Argyll counts on? Poor Mary.'
'Dunno,' he confessed. 'But it don't make sense like it is.'
She did not argue, and they walked in companionable silence to the bus stop.
SIX
Monk was standing in the kitchen when he heard Hester come in at the front door. He spun around and strode into the hall. He immediately saw how she was dressed and that her face was pinched and weary. Her hair was straggling as if she had tied it in a knot rather than bothered dressing it at all, and her sleeves and trousers were wet.
'Where in hell have you been?' he said abruptly, alarm making his voice sharper than he had meant. He was very close to her, almost touching her. 'What's happened?'
She did not even try to prevaricate. 'I've been in the tunnels, with Sutton. I'm perfectly all right, but there's something terribly wrong there,' she said, looking directly at him. 'It isn't as easy as I thought. The engines are enormous, and they're shaking the ground. It's nothing to do with what James Havilland or Mary discovered. They all know it's dangerous; it's part of the job.' Her eyes were searching his face now, looking for help, explanations to make sense of it. 'They all know about the fact that there are streams underground, and wells, and that the clay slips. Hundreds of people live down there! But Mary was going from one person to another asking questions. What could she have been looking for, and why did it matter?'
Monk forced himself to be gentle as he accompanied Hester into the warmth of the kitchen. He was not in the least domestic by nature, but he had nonetheless cleaned out the stove and relit it. With Hester's absences in the clinic caring for the desperately ill and dying, he had been obliged to learn.
He took her coat from her and hung it up on the peg, where it could dry. She made no attempt to be evasive, which in itself alarmed him. She must be very badly frightened. He could see it in her eyes in the brightness of the kitchen gaslight. 'Where did you learn all this?' he asked.
'The Thames Tunnel,' she answered. 'Not alone!' she added hastily. 'I was perfectly safe.' Involuntarily she shuddered, her body in a spasm of uncontrollable memory. She pushed a shaking hand through her hair. 'William, there are people who live down there, all the time! Like… rats. They never come up to the wind or the light.'
'I know. But it's probably no more a root of crime than the waterside slums or the docks, places like Jacob's Island.' He put his arms around her and held her close. 'You're not setting up any clinic for them!'
She laughed in spite of herself, and ended up coughing. 'I hadn't even thought of it. But now that-'
'Hester!'
She smiled brightly at him.
He breathed out slowly, forcing himself to be calmer. Then he put more water in the kettle and slid it onto the hob. There was fresh bread and butter and cheese, and a slice of decent cake in the pantry.
'William…'
He stopped and faced her, waiting.
At last she spoke. 'Mary went to all sorts of places and asked questions about rivers and clay, and how many
